it) GIOVANNI VERGA THE CONTINENTAL CLASSICS VOLUME XVI THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE BY GIOVANNI VERGA TRANSLATED BY MARY A. CRAIG WITH INTRODUCTION BY W. D. HOWELLS HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON Vr/?3 Copypght, 1890, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All ngktt rtttrvtd. M-R INTRODUCTION. ANY one who loves simplicity or respects sincerity, any one who feels the tie binding us all together in the helplessness of our common human life, and running from the lowliest as well as the highest to the Mystery immeasur- ably above the whole earth, must find a rare and tender pleasure in this simple story of an Italian fishing village. I cannot promise that it will interest any other sort of readers, but I do not believe that any other sort are worth interesting ; and so I can praise Signer Verga's book without reserve as one of the most per- fect pieces of literature that I know. When we talk of the great modern move- ment towards reality we speak without the documents if we leave this book out of the count, for I can think of no other novel in which the facts have been more faithfully re- produced, or with a profounder regard for the poetry that resides in facts and resides no- v INTRODUCTION. , \ where else. Signor Verga began long ago, in his Vita del Campi(?U\iz of the Fields") to give proof of his fitness to live in our time ; and after some excursions in the region of French naturalism, he here returns to the orig- inal sources of his inspiration, and offers us a masterpiece of the finest realism. He is, I believe, a Sicilian, of that meridional race among whom the Italian language first took form, and who in these latest days have done some of the best things in Italian litera- ture. It is of the far South that he writes, and of people whose passions are elemental and whose natures are simple. The characters, therefore, are types of good and of evil, of good and of generosity, of truth and of falsehood. They are not the less personal for this reason, and the life which they embody is none the less veritable. It will be well for the reader who comes to this book with the usual prej- udices against the Southern Italians to know that such souls as Padron 'Ntoni and Maruzza la Longa, with their impassioned conceptions of honor and duty, exist among them ; and that such love idyls as that of Mena and Alfio, so sweet, so pure, and the happier but not less charming every-day romance of Alessio and Nunziata, are passages of a life supposed wholly INTRODUCTION. V benighted and degraded. This poet, as I must call the author, does again the highest office of poetry, in making us intimate with the hearts of men of another faith, race, and condition, and teaching us how like ourselves they are in all that is truest in them. Padron 'Ntoni and La Longa, Luca, Mena, Alfio, Nunziata, Alessio, if harshlier named, might pass for New England types, which we boast the product of Puritan- ism, but which are really the product of con- science and order. The children of disorder who move through the story — the selfish, the vicious, the greedy, like Don Sylvestro, and La Vespa, and Goosefoot, and Dumb-bell, or the merely weak, like poor 'Ntoni Malavoglia — are not so different from our own images either, when seen in this clear glass, which falsi- ifies and distorts nothing. Few tales, I think, are more moving, more full of heartbreak than this; for few are so honest. By this I mean that the effect in it is precisely that which the author aimed at. He meant to let us see just what manner of men and women went to make up the life of a little Italian town of the present day, and he meant to let the people show themselves with the least possible explanation or comment from him. The transaction of the story is in the VI INTRODUCTION. highest degree dramatic ; but events follow one another with the even sequence of hours on the clock. You are not prepared to value them beforehand ; they are not advertised to tempt your curiosity like feats promised at the circus, in the fashion of the feebler novels j often it is in the retrospect that you recognize their importance and perceive their full signifi- cance. In this most subtly artistic manage- ment of his material the author is most a mas- ter, and almost more than any other he has the rare gift of trusting the intelligence of his reader. He seems to have no more sense of authority or supremacy concerning the person- ages than any one of them would have in tell- ing the story, and he has as completely freed himself from literosity as the most unlettered among them. Under his faithful touch life seems mainly sad in Trezza, because life is mainly sad everywhere, and because men there have not yet adjusted themselves to the only terms which can render life tolerable any- where. They are still rivals, traitors, enemies, and have not learned that in the vast orphanage of nature they have no resource but love and union among themselves and submission to the unfathomable ,/isdom which was before they were. Yet seen aright this picture of a INTRODUCTION. Vll little bit of the world, very common and low down and far off, has a consolation which no one need miss. There, as in every part of the world, and in the whole world, goodness brings not pleasure, not happiness, but it brings peace and rest to the soul, and lightens all burdens ; the trial and the sorrow go on for good and evil alike ; only, those who choose the evil have no peace. W. D. HOWELLS. THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. i. ONCE the Malavoglia were as numerous as the stones on the old road to Trezza ; there were some even at Ognino and at Aci Castello, and good and brave seafaring folk, quite the opposite of what they might appear to be from .their nickname of the Ill-wills, as is but right. In fact, in the parish books they were called Toscani ; but that meant nothing, because, since the world was a world, at Ognino, at Trezza, and at Aci Castello they had been known as Malavoglia, from father to son, who had always had boats on the water and tiles in the sun. Now at Trezza there remained only £a_dron 'NtQni a,n.d 1m fami^ who owned the Prov- videnza, which was anchored in the sand below the washing-tank by the side of Uncle Cola's Concetta and Padron Fortunato Cipolla's bark. The tem- pests, which had scattered all the other Malavoglia to the four winds, had passed over the -house by the medlar -tree and the boat anchored under the 2 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. tank without doing any great damage ; and Padron 'Ntoni, to explain the miracle, used to say, showing his closed fist, a fist which looked as if it were made of walnut wood, " To pull a good oar the five fingers must help one another." He also said, " Men are like the fingers of the hand — the thumb must be the thumb, and the little finger the little finger." And Padron 'Ntoni's little family was really dis- posed like the fingers of a hand. First, he came — the thumb — wno ordered the fasts and the feasts in the house ; then Bastian. his son, called Bastianazzo because he was as big and as grand as the Saint Christopher which was painted over the arch of the fish-market in town ; and big^and grand as he was, he went right about at the word of command, and wouldn't have blown his nose unless his father had told him to do it. So he took to wife La Longa when his father said to him " Take her !" Then came La Longa, a little woman who attended to her weaving, her^salting of anchovies, and her babies, as a good house-keeper should do ; last, the grand- children in the order of their age — 'Ntoni, the eldest, a big fellow of twenty, who was always getting cuffs from his grandfather, and then kicks a little farther down if the cuffs had been heavy enough to disturb his equilibrium ; Luca, " who had more sense than the big one," the grandfather said ; Mena (Filo- mena), surnamed Sant'Agata, because she was al- ways at the loom, and the proverb goes, " Woman at the loom, hen in the coop, and mullet in January;" THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 3 Alessio, our urchin, that was his grandfather all over; and Lia (Rosalia), as yet neither fish nor flesh. On SuncTay, when they went into church one after another, they looked like a procession. Padron 'Ntoni was in the habit of using certain proverbs and sayings of old times, for, said he, the sayings of the ancients never lie : " Without a pilot the boat won't go ;" " To be pope one must begin by being sacristan," or, " Stick to the trade you know, somehow you'll manage to go ;" " Be content to be what your father was, then you'll be neither a knave nor an ass," and other wise saws. There- fore the house by the medlar was prosperous,- and Padron 'Ntoni passed for one of the weighty men of the village, to that extent that they would have made him a communal councillor. Only Don Sil- vestro, the town-clerk, who was very knowing, in- sisted that he was a rotten codino, a reactionary who went in for the Bourbons, and conspired for the return of Franceschello, that he might tyrannize over the village as he tyrannized over his own house. Padron 'Ntoni, instead, did not even know France- schello by sight, and used to say, " He who has the management of a house cannot sleep when he likes, for he who commands must give account." In De- cember, 1863, 'Ntoni, the eldest grandson, was call- ed up for the naval conscription. Padron 'Ntoni had recourse to the big-wigs of the village, who are those who can help us if they like. But Don Giam- maria, the vicar, replied that he deserved it, and 4 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. that it was the fruit of that satanic revolution which they had made, hanging that tricolored handker- chief to the campanile. Don Franco, the druggist, on the other hand, laughed under his beard, and said it was quite time there should be a revolution, and that then they would send all those fellows of the draft and the taxes flying, and there would be no more soldiers, but everybody would go out and fight for their country if there was need of it. Then Padron 'Ntoni begged and prayed him, for the love of God, to make the revolution quickly, before his grandson 'Ntoni went for a soldier, as if Don Franco had it in his pocket, so that at last the druggist flew into a rage. Then Don Silvestro, the town-clerk, dislocat- ed his jaws with laughter at the talk, and finally he said that by means of certain little packets, slipped into certain pockets that he knew of, they might manage to get his nephew found defective in some way, and sent back for a year. Unfortunately, the doctor, when he saw the tall youth, told him that his only defect was to be planted like a column on those big ugly feet, that looked like the leaves of a prick- ly-pear, but such feet as that would be of more use on the deck of an iron-clad in certain rough times that were coming than pretty small ones in tight boots ; and so he took 'Ntoni, without saying " by your leave." La Longa, when the conscripts went up to their quarters, trotted breathless by the side of her long-legged son, reminding him that he must always remember to keep round his neck the piece THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 5 of the Madonna's dress that she had given him, and to send home news whenever any one came that way that he knew, and she would give him money to buy paper. The grandfather, being a man, said nothing ; but felt a lump in his throat, too, and would not look his daughter-in-law in the face, so that it seemed as if he were angry with her. So they returned to Aci Trezza, silent, with bowed heads. Bastianazzo, who had unloaded the Provvidenza in a great hurry, went to meet them at the top of the street, and when he saw them coming, sadly, with their shoes in their hands, had no heart to speak, but turned round and went back with them to the house. La Longa rush- ed away to the kitchen, longing to find herself alone with the familiar saucepans; and Padron 'Ntoni said to his son, " Go and say something to that poor child ; she can bear it no longer.'' The day after they all went back to the station of Aci Castello to see the train pass with the conscripts who were going to Messina, and waited behind the bars hus- tled by the crowd for more than an hour. Finally the train arrived, and they saw their boys, all swarm- ing with their heads out of the little windows like oxen going to a fair. The singing, the laughter, and the noise made it seem like the Festa of Tre- castagni, and in the flurry and the fuss they forgot their aching hearts for a while. — ^ "Adieu, 'Ntoni ! Adieu, mamma ! Addio. Re- member! remember!" Near by, on the margin of 6 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. the ditch, pretending to be cutting grass for the calf, was Cousin Tudda's Sara ; but Cousin Venera, the Zuppidda (hobbler), went on whispering that she had come there to see Padron 'Ntoni's 'Ntoni, with whom she used to talk over the wall of the garden. She had seen them herself, with those very eyes, which the worms would one day devour. Certain it is that 'Ntoni waved his hand to Sara, and that she stood still, with the sickle in her hand, gazing at the train as long as it was there. (To La Longa it seemed that that wave of the hand had been stolen from her, and when she met Cousin Tudda's Sara on the piazza, (public square), or at the tank where they washed, she turned her back on her for a long time after.j Then the train moved off, hiss- ing and screaming so as to drown the adieus and the songs. And then the curious crowd dispersed, leaving only a few poor women and some poor devils that still stood clinging to the bars without knowing why. Then, one by one, they also moved away, and Padron 'Ntoni, guessing that his daughter- in-law must have a bitter taste in her mouth, spent two centimes for a glass of water, with lemon-juice in it, for her. Cousin Venera, the Zuppidda, to com- fort her gossip La Longa, said to her, " Now, you may set your heart at rest, for, for five years you may look upon your son as dead, and think no more about him." But they did think of him all the time at the house by the medlar — now it would be a plate too THE HOUSE BY THE MFDLAR-TREE. 7 many which La Longa found in her hand when she was getting supper ready ; now some knot or other that nobody could tie like 'Ntoni in the rigging — and when some rope had to be pulled taut, or turn some screw, the grandfather groaning, " O-hi ! O-o-o-o-hi !" ejaculated : " Here we want 'Ntoni !" or " Do you think I have a wrist like that boy's ?" The mother, passing the shuttle through the loom that went one, two, three ! thought of the bourn, bourn of the engine that had dragged away her son, which had sounded ever since in her heart, one ! — two ! — three ! The gTandpapa, too, had certain singular methods of consolation. " What will you have ? A little soldiering will do that boy good ; he always liked better to carry his two arms out a-walking of a Sun- day than to work with them for his bread." Or, "When he has learned how saltethe bread is that one eats elsewhere he won't growl any longer about the minestra* at home." Finally, there arrived the first letter from 'Ntoni, which convulsed the village. He said that the wom- en oft there swept the streets with their silk petti- coats, and that on the mole there was Punch's the- atre, and that they sold those little round cheeses, that rich people eat, for two centimes, and that one could not get along without soldi; that did well enough at Trezza, where, unless one went to San- * Masar-oni of inferioj^qt&lity. m<- 8 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. tuzza's, at the tavern, one didn't know how to spend one's money. " Set him up with his cheeses, the glutton," said his grandfather. " He can't help it, though ; he al- ways was like that. If I hadn't held him at the font in these arms, I should have said Don Giam. maria had put sugar in his mouth instead of salt." The Mangiacarubbe when she was at the tank, and Cousin Tudda's Sara was by, went on saying : " Certainly. Those ladies with the silk dresses waited on purpose for Padron 'Ntoni's 'Ntoni to steal him away. They haven't got any pumpkin- heads down there !" The others held their sides with laughing, and henceforth the envious girls called 'Ntoni "pump- kin-head." 'Ntoni had sent his portrait, too ; all the girls at the tank had seen it, as Sara showed it to one after another, passing it under her apron, and the Man- giacarubbe shivered with jealousy. He looked like Saint Michael the Archangel with those feet planted on a fine carpet, and a curtain behind his head, like that of the Madonna at Ognino ; and he was so handsome, so clean, and smooth and neat, that the mother that bore him wouldn't have known him; and poor La Longa was never tired of gazing at the curtain and the carpet and that pillar, against which her son stood up stiff as a post, scratching with his hand the back of a beautiful arm-chair ; and she thanked God and the saints who had placed her THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 9 boy in the midst of such splendors. She kept the portrait on the bureau, under the glass globe which covered the figure of the Good Shepherd ; so that she said her prayers to it, the Zuppidda said, and thought she had a great treasure on the bureau ; and, after all, Sister Mariangela, the Santuzza, had just such another (anybody that cared to might see it) that Cousin Mariano Cinghialenta had given her, and she kept it nailed upon the tavern counter, among the bottles. But after a while 'Ntoni got hold of a comrade who could write, and then he let himself go in abuse of the hard life on board ship, the discipline, the superiors, the thin rice soup, and the tight shoes. "A letter that wasn't worth the twenty centimes for the postage," said Padron 'Ntoni. La Longa scold- ed about the writing, that looked like a lot of fish- hooks, and said nothing worth hearing. Bastianazzo shook his head, saying no ; it wasn't good at all, and that if it had been he, he would have always put nice things to please people down there on the paper — pointing at it with a finger as big as the pin of a rowlock — if it were only out of compassion for La Longa, who, since her boy was gone, went about like a cat that had lost her kitten. Padron 'Ntoni went in secret, first, to Don Giam- maria, and then to Don Franco, the druggist, and got the letter read to him by both of them ; and as they were of opposite ways of thinking, he was per- suaded that it was really written there as they said ; 10 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. and then he went on saying to Bastianazzo and to his wife : " Didn't I tell you that boy ought to have been born rich, like Padron Cipolla's son, that he might have nothing to do but lie in the sun and scratch himself?" Meanwhile the year was a bad one, and the fish had to be given for the souls of the dead, now that Christians had taken to eating meat on Friday like so many Turks. Besides, the men who remained at home were not enough to manage the boat, and sometimes they had to take La Locca's Menico, by the day, to help. The King did this way, you see — he took the boys just as they got big enough to earn their living; while they were little, and had to be fed, he left them at home. And there was Mena, too ; the girl was seventeen, and the youths began to stop and stare at her as she went into church. So it was necessary to work with hands and feet too to drive that boat, at the house by the medlar-tree. Padron 'Ntoni, therefore, to drive the bark, had arranged with Uncle Crucifix Dumb-bell an affair concerning certain lupins* to be bought on credit and sold again at Riposto, where Cousin Cinghia- lenta, the carrier, said there was a boat loading for Trieste. In fact, the lupins were beginning to rot ; but they were all that were to be had at Trezza, * Coarse flat beans. THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. II and that old rascal Dumb-bell knew that the Prav- videnza was eating her head off and doing nothing, so he pretended to be very stupid, indeed. " Eh ! too much is it ? Let it alone, then ! But I can't take a centime less ! I can't, on my conscience ! I must answer for my soul to God ! I can't " — and shook his head till it looked in real earnest like a bell without a clapper. This conversation took place at the door of the church at Ognino, on the first Sunday in September, which was the feast of Our Lady. There was a great concourse of people from all the neighborhood, and there was present also Cousin Agostino Goosefoot, who, by talking and joking, managed to get them to agree upon two scudi and ten the bag, to be paid by the month. It was always so with Uncle Crucifix, he said, because he had that cursed weakness of not being able to say no. "As if you couldn't say no when you like," sneered Goosefoot. " You're like the — " And he told him what he was like. When La Longa heard of the business of the lu- pins, she opened her eyes very wide indeed, as they sat with their elbows on the table-cloth after sup- per, and it seemed as if she felt the weight of that sum of forty scudi on her stomach. But she said nothing, because women have nothing to do with such things ; and Padron 'Ntoni explained to her how, if the affair was successful, there would be bread for the winter and ear-rings for Mena, and Bastiano could go and come in a week from Ri- 12 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. posto with La Locca's Menico. Bastiano, mean- time, snuffed the candle and said nothing. So the affair of the lupins was arranged, and the voyage of the Provvidenza, which was the oldest boat in the village, but was supposed to be very lucky. Ma- ruzza had a heavy heart, but did not speak; he went about indefatigably, preparing everything, put- ting the boat in order, and filling the cupboard with provisions for the journey — fresh bread, the jar with oil, the onions — and putting the fur-lined coat under the deck. The men had been very busy all day with that usurer Uncle Crucifix, who had sold a pig in a poke, and the lupins were spoiling. Dumb-bell swore that he knew nothing about it, in God's truth ! " Bargaining is no cheating ;" was he likely to throw his soul to the pigs ? And Goosefoot scolded and blasphemed like one possessed — to bring them to agreement, swearing that such a thing had never happened to him before ; and he thrust his hands among the lupins, and held them up before God and the Madonna, calling them to witness. At last — red, panting, desperate — he made a wild proposi- tion, and flung it in the face of Uncle Crucifix (who pretended to be quite stupefied), and of the Mala- voglia, with the sacks in their hands. " There ! pay it at Christmas, instead of paying so much a month, and you will gain two soldi the sack ! Now make an end of it. Holy Devil !" and he began to measure them. " In God's name, one !" THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 13 The Provvidenza went off on Saturday, towards evening, when the Ave Maria should have been ring- ing; only the bell was silent because Master Cirino, the sacristan, had .gone to carry a pair of new boots to Don Silvestro, the town-clerk ; at that hour the girls crowded like a flight of sparrows about the fountain, and the evening-star was shining brightly already just over the mast of the Provvidenza, like a lamp. Maruzza, with her baby in her arms, stood on the shore, without speaking, while her husband loosed the sail, and the Provvidenza danced on the broken waves by the Fariglione* like a duck. " Clear south wind and dark north, go fearlessly forth," said Padron 'Ntoni, from the landing, look- ing towards the mountains, dark with clouds. La Locca's Menico, who was in the Provvidenza with Bastianazzo, called out something which was lost in the sound of the sea. " He said you may give the money to his mother, for his brother is out of work ;" called Bastianazzo, and that was the last word that was heard. n. IN the whole place nothing was talked of but the affair of the lupins, and as La Longa returned with * Rocks rising straight out of the sea, separate from the shore. 14 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. Lia from the beach the gossips came to their doors to see her pass. " Oh, a regular golden business "! shouted Goose- foot, as he .hitchgd along with his crooked leg behind Padron 'Ntoni, who went and sat down on the church -steps with Padron Fortunate Cipolla and Locca Menico's brother, who were taking the air there in the cool of the evening. " Uncle Cru- cifix screamed as if you had been pulling out his quill-feathers ; but you needn't mind that — he has plenty of quills, the old boy. Oh, we had a time of it! — you can say as much for your part, too, can't you, Padron 'Ntoni ? But for Padron 'Ntoni, you know, I'd throw myself off the cliffs any day. So I would, before God ! And Uncle Crucifix listens to me because he knows what a big ladle means — a big ladle, you know, that stirs a big pot, where there's more than two hundred scudi a year a-boiling! Why, old Dumb-bell wouldn't know how to blow his nose if I wasn't by to show him !" La Locca's son, hearing them talk of Uncle ..Cru- cifix, who was really his uncle, because he was La Locca's brother, felt his heart swelling with family affection. " We are relations," he repeated. " When I go there to work by the day he gives me only half- wages and no wine, because we are relations." Old Goosefoot sneered : I " He does it for your good, so that you shouldn't THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 15 take to drinking, and that he may have more money to leave you when he dies." Then old Goosefoot went on amusing himself by speaking ill now of one now of another, as it hap- pened ; but so good-humoredly, without malice, that no one could catch him in anything actionable. He said to La Locca's son : " Your uncle wants to nobble your Cousin Vespa [wasp] out of her garden — trying to get her to let him have it for half what it's worth — making her believe he'll marry her. But if La Vespa succeeds in drawing him on, you may go whistle for your inheritance, and you'll lose the wages he hasn't given you and the wine you didn't drink." Then they began to dispute — for Padron 'Ntoni insisted upon it that, " after all, Uncle Dumb-bell was a Christian, and hadn't quite thrown his brains into the gutter, to go and marry his brother's daughter." "What has Christian to do with it, or Turk either ?" growled Goosefoot. " He's mad, you mean ! He's as rich as a pig ; what does he want of that little garden of Vespa's, as big as a nose-rag? And she has nothing but that." " I ought to know how big it is ; it lies along my vineyard," said Padron Cipolla, puffing himself like a turkey. " You call that a vineyard ? Four prickly-pears !" sneered Goosefoot. "Between the prickly-pears the vines grow; and 1 6 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. if Saint Francis will send us a good shower of rain, you'J! see if I don't have some good wine ! To-day the sun went to bed loaded with rain, or with wind." " When the sun goes to bed heavy one must look for a west wind," said Padron 'Ntoni. Goosefoot couldn't bear Cipolla's sententious way of talking, " thinking, because he was rich, he must know everything, and could make the poor people swallow whatever nonsense he chose to talk. One wants rain, and one wants wind," he wound up. " Padron Cipolla wants rain for his vines, and Pa- dron 'Ntoni wants a wind to push the poop of the Provvidenza. You know the proverb, ' Curly is the sea, a fresh wind there'll be !' To-night the stars are shining, at midnight the wind will change. Don't you hear the ground-swell ?" On the road there was heard the sound of heavy carts, slowly passing. " Night or day, somebody's always going about the world," said Cipolla a little later on. Now that they could no longer see the sea or the fields, it seemed as if there were only Trezza in the world, and everybody wondered where the carts could be going at that hour. " Before midnight the Provvidenza will have rounded the Cape of the Mills, and the wind won't trouble her any longer." Padron 'Ntoni thought of nothing but the Prov- videnza, and when they were not talking of her he said nothing, and sat like a post among the talkers. THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 17 " You ought to go across the street to the drug- gist's, where they are talking politics. You'd make a fine figure among them. Listen how they shout !" " That's Don Giammaria," said La Locca's son, " disputing with Don Franco." The druggist was holding a conversation at the door of his shop with the vicar and two or three others. As he was a cultured person he got the newspaper, and read it, too, and let others read it ; and he had the History of the French Revolution, which he kept under the glass mortar, because he quarrelled about it every day with Don Giam- maria, the vicar, to pass the time, and they got positively bilious over it, but they, couldn't have lived a day without seeing each other. On Satur- days, when the paper came, Don Franco went so far as to burn a candle for half an hour, or even for a whole hour, at the risk of a scolding from his wife, so as to explain his ideas properly, and not go to bed like a brute, as Uncle Cipolla and old Mala- voglia did. In the summer, besides, there was no need of a candle, for they could stand under the lamp at che door, when Mastro Cirino lighted it, and sometimes Don Michele, the brigadier of the customs guard, joined them; and Don Silvestro, the town-clerk, too, coming back from his vineyard^ stopped for a moment. Then Don Franco would say, rubbing his hands, that they were quite a par- liament, and go off behind his counter, passing his fingers through his long beard like a comb, with a 1 8 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. shrewd little grin, as if he were going to eat some- body for his breakfast ; and would let slip broken phrases under his breath full of hidden meaning ; so that it was plain enough that he knew more than all the world put together. And Don Giammaria couldn't bear the sight of him, and grew yellow with fury and spit Latin at him. Don Silvestro, for his part, was greatly amused to see how he poisoned his blood "trying to straighten out a dog's legs," he said, " without a chance of making a centime by it; he, at least, didn't lose his temper, as they did." And for that reason they said in the place that he had the best farms in Trezza — " that he had come to a barefooted mgamuffin," added old Goosefoot. He would set the disputants at each other as if they had been dogs, and laughed fit to split his sides with shrill cries of ah ! ah ! ah ! like a cackling hen. Goosefoot went off again with the old story that if Don Silvestro had been willing to stay where he belonged, it would be a spade he'd be wielding now and not a pen. " Would you give him your granddaughter Mena?" said Cipolla at last, turning to Padron 'Ntoni. " Each to his own business — leave the wolf to look after the sheep." Padron Cipolla kept on nodding his head — all the more that there had been some talk between him and Padron 'Ntoni of marrying Mena to his son Brasi ; if the lupin business went on well the THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 19 v dowry would be paid down in cash, and the affair settled: immediately. "The girl as she has been trained, and the tow as it has been spun," said Padron Malavoglia at last ; and Padron Cipolla agreed " that everybody in the place knew that La Longa had brought up her girl beautifully, that anybody who passed through the alley behind the house by the medlar at the hour at which they were talking could hear the sound of Sant'Agata's loom. Cousin Maruzza didn't waste her oil after dark, that she didn't," he said. La Longa, just as she came back from the beach, sat down at the window to prepare the thread for the loom. " Cousin Mena is not seen but heard, and she stays at the loom day and night, like Sant'Agata," said the neighbors. "That's the way to bring up girls," replied Ma- ruzza, " instead of letting them stay gaping out the window. ' Don't go after the girl at the window,' says the proverb." " Some of them, though, staring out of window, manage to catch the foolish fish that pass," said her cousin Anna from the opposite door. Cousin Anna (really her cousin this time, not only called so by way of good-fellowship) had rea- son and to spare for this speech; for that great v hulking fellow, her son Rocco, had tacked himself on to the Mangiacarubbe's petticoat-tail, and she 20 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. was always leaning out of the window, toasting her face in the sun. Gossip Grazia Goosefoot, hearing that there was a conversation going on, came to her door with her apron full of the beans she was shelling, and railed about the mice, who had made her "sack like a sieve, eating holes all over it, as if they had had wits like Christians;" so the talk became general because those accursed little brutes had done Maruzza all sorts of harm, too. Cousin Anna had her house full of them, too, since she had lost her cat, a beast worth its weight in gold, who had died of a kick from Uncle Tino. " The gray cats are the best to catch mice ; they'd go after them into a needle's eye." " One shouldn't open the door to the cat by night, for an old woman at Aci Sant' Antonio got killed that way by thieves who stole her cat three days beforehand then brought her back half starved to mew at the door, and the poor woman couldn't bear to hear the creature out in the street at that hour, and opened the door, and so the wretches got in. Nowadays the jrascals invent all sorts of tricks to gain their ends ; and at Trezza one saw faces now that nobody had ever seen on the coast ; coming, pretending to be fishing, and catching up the clothes that were out to dry if they could manage it. They had stolen a new sheet from poor Nunziata that way. Poor girl ! robbing her, who worked so hard to feed those little brothers that her father left on THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 21 her hands when he went off seeking his fortune in Alexandria, in Egypt. Nunziata was like what Cousin Anna herself had been when her husband died and left her with that houseful of little chil- dren, and Rocco, the biggest of them, no higher than her knee. Then, after all the trouble of rear- ing him, great lazy fellow, she must stand by and see the Mangiacarubbe carry him off." Into the midst of this gossiping came Venera la Zuppidda, wife to Bastiano, the calker ; she lived at the foot of the lane, and always appeared un- expectedly, like the devil at the litany, who came from nobody knew where, to say his say like the rest. " For that matter," she muttered," your son Rocco never helped you a bit; if he got hold of a soldo he spent it at the tavern." La Zuppidda knew everything that went on in the place, and for this reason they said she went about all day barefoot, with thatjdistafRhat she was always holding over her head to keep the thread off the gravel. Playing the spy, she was ; the spinning was only a pretext. " She always told gospel truth — that was a habit of hers— and people who didn't like to have the truth told about them accused her of be- ing a wicked slanderer — one of those whose tongues dropped gall?) 'JBitte^jnouth^pits gall,' says the proverb, and a bitter mouth she hacTlor that Bar- bara of hers, that she had never been able to marry, so naughty and rude she was, and with all that, she 22 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. would like to give her Victor Emmanuel's son for a husband. "A nice one she is, the Mangiacarubbe," she went on ; "a brazen - faced hussy, that has called the whole village, one after another, under her window (' Choose no woman at the window,' says the prov- erb) ; and Vanni Pizzuti gave her the figs he stole from Mastro Philip, the ortolano, and they ate them together in the vineyard under the almond-tree. I saw them myself. And Peppi (Joe) Naso, the butch- er, after he began to be jealous of Mariano Cinghia- lenta, the carter, used to throw all the horns of the beasts he killed behind her door, so that they said he combed his head under the Mangiacarubbe's window." That good-natured Cousin Anna, instead, took it easily. " Don't you know Don Giammaria says it is a mortal sin to speak evil of one's neighbors ?" " Don Giammaria had better preach to his own sister Donna Rosolina," replied La Zuppidda, " and not let her go playing off the airs of a young girl at Don Silvestro when he goes past the house, and with Don Michele, the brigadier ; she's dying to get married, with all that fat, too, and at her age ! She ought to be ashamed of herself." -f " The Lord's will be done !" said Cousin Anna, in conclusion. "When my husband died, Rocco wasn't taller than this spindle, and his sisters were all younger than he. Perhaps I've lost my soul for them. Grief hardens the heart, they say, and hard THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 23 work the hands, but the harder they are the better one can work with them. My daughters will do as I have done, and while there are stones in the washing -tank we shall have enough to live on. Look at Nunziata — she's as wise as an old grand- dame; and she works for those babies as if she had borne them herself." "And where is Nunziata that she doesn't come back ?" asked La Longa of a group of ragged little fellows who sat whining on the steps of the tumble- down little house on the opposite side of the way. When they heard their sister's name they began to howl in chorus. " I saw her go down to the beach after broom to burn," said Cousin Anna, "and your son Alessio was with her too." The children stopped howling to listen, then be- gan to cry again, all at once ; and the biggest one, perched like a little chicken on the top step, said, gravely, after a while, " I don't know where she is." The neighbors all came out, like snails in a show- er, and all along the little street was heard a per- petual chatter from one door to another. Even Alfio Mosca, who had the donkey-cart, had opened his window, and a great smell of l^om^smpke came out of it. Mena had left the loom and come out on the door-step. " Oh, Sant'Agata !" they all cried, and made a great fuss over her. "Aren't you thinking of marrying your Mena?" 24 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. asked La Zuppidda, in a low tone, of Maruzza. " She's already eighteen, come Easter-tide. I know her age ; she was born in the year of the earth- quake, like my Barbara. Whoever wants my Bar- bara must first please me." At this moment was heard a sound of boughs scraping on the road, and up came Luca and Nun- ziata, who couldn't be seen under the big bundle of broom-bushes, they were so little. "Oh, Nunziata," called out the neighbors, "were not you afraid at this hour, so far from home ?" " I was with them," said Alessio. " I was late washing with Cousin Anna, and then I had nothing to light the fire with." The little girl lighted the lamp, and began to get ready for supper, the children trotting up and down the little kitchen after her, so that she looked like a hen with her chickens ; Alessio had thrown down his fagot, and stood gazing out of the door, gravely, with rns~hands in his pockets. " Oh, Nunziata," called out Mena, from the door- step, " when you've lighted the fire come over here for a little." Nunziata left Alessio to look after her fire, and ran across to perch herself on the landing beside Sant'Agata, to enjoy a little rest, hand in hand with her friend. " Friend Alfio Mosca is cooking his broad beans now," observed Nunziata, after a little. " He is like you, poor fellow ! You have neither THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 25 of you any one to get the minestra ready by the time you come home tired in the evening." " Yes, it is true that ; and he knows how to sew, and to wash and mend his clothes." (Nunziata knew everything that Alfio did, and knew every inch of her neighbor's house as if it had been the palm of her hand.) " Now," she said, " he has gone to get wood, now he is cleaning his donkey," and she watched his light as it moved about the house. Sant'Agata laughed, and Nunziata said that to be precisely like a woman Alfio only wanted a pet- ticoat. " So," concluded Mena, " when he marries, his wife will go round with the donkey-cart, and he'll stay at home and look after the children." The mothers, grouped about the street, talked about Alfio Mosca too, and how La Vespa swore that she wouldn't have him for a husband — so said La Zuppidda — " because the Wasp had her own nice little property, and wanted to marry somebody who owned something better than a donkey-cart. She has been casting sheep's eyes at her uncle Dumb-bell, the little rogue !" The girls for their parts defended Alfio against that ugly Wasp; and Nunziata felt her heart swell with contempt at the way they scorned Alfio, only because he was poor and alone in the world, and all of a sudden she said to Mena : " If I was grown up I'd marry him, so I would, if they'd let me." 26 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. Mena was going to say something herself, but she changed the subject suddenly. "Are you going to town for the All Souls' festa?" " No. I can't leave the house all alone." " We are to go if the business of the lupins goes well; grandpapa says so." Then she thought a minute and added: " Cousin Alfio, he's going too, to sell his nuts at the fair." And the girls sat silent, thinking of the Feast of All Souls, and how Alfio was going there to sell his nuts. " Old Uncle Crucifix, how quietly he puts Vespa in his pocket," began Cousin Anna, all over again. " That's what she wants," cried La Zuppidda, in her abrupt way, " to be pocketed. La Vespa wants just that, and nothing else. She's always in his house on one pretext or another, slipping in like a cat, with something good for him to eat or drink, and the old man never refuses what costs him noth- ing. She fattens him up like a pig for Christmas. I tell you she asks nothing better than to get into his pocket." Every one had something to say about Uncle Crucifix, who was always whining, when, instead, he had money by the shovelful — for La Zuppidda, one day when the old man was ill, had seen a chest un- der his bed as big as that 1 La Longa felt the weight of the forty scudi of debt for the lupins, and changed the subject; be- THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 27 cause " one hears also in the dark," and they could hear the voice of Uncle Crucifix talking with Don Giammaria, who was crossing the piazza close by, while La Zuppidda broke off her abuse of him to wish him good-evening. Don Silvestro laughed his hen's cackle, and this fashion of laughing enraged the arjpthecary^ who had never had any patience for that matter; he left that to such asses as wouldn't get up another revo- lution. "No, you never had any," shouted Don Giam- maria to him ; "you have no place to put it." And Don Franco, who was a little man, went into a fury, and called ugly names after the priest which could be heard all across the piazza, in the dark. Old Dumb-bell, hard as a stone, shrugged his shoulders, and took care to repeat " that all that was nothing to him; he attended to his own affairs." "As if the affairs of the Company of the Happy Death were not your affairs," said Don Giammaria, " and no- body paying a soldo any more. When it is a ques- tion of putting their hands in their pockets these people are a lot of Protestants, worse than that heathen apothecary, and let the box of the confra- ternity become a nest for mice. It was positively beastly !" Don Franco, from his shop, sneered at them all at the top of his voice, trying to imitate Don Sil- vestro's cackling laugh, which was enough to mad- den anybody. But everybody knew that the drug 28 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. gist was a freemason, and Don Giammaria called out to him from the piazza : " You'd find the money fast enough if it was for schools or for illuminations 1" The apothecary didn't answer, for his wife just then appeared at the window ; and Uncle Crucifix, when he was far enough off not to be heard by Don Silvestro, the clerk, who gobbled up the salary for the master of the elementary school : "It is nothing to me," he repeated, "but in my time there weren't so many lamps nor so many schools, and we were a deal better off." " You never were at school, and you can manage your affairs well enough." "And I know my catechism, too," said Uncle Crucifix, not to be behindhand in politeness. In the heat of dispute Don Giammaria lost the pavement, which he could cross with his eyes shut, and was on the point of breaking his neck, and of letting slip, God forgive us ! a very naughty' word. " At least if they'd light their lamps !" " In these days one must look after one's steps," concluded Uncle Crucifix. Don Giammaria pulled him by the sleeve of his coat to tell him about this one and that one — in the middle of the piazza, in the dark — of the lamp- lighter who stole the oil, and Don Silvestro, who winked at it, and of the Sindic Giufa, who let himself be led by the nose. Dumb-bell nodded his head in assent, mechanically, though they THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 29 couldn't see each other; and Don Giammaria, as he passed the whole village in review, said : " This one is a thief ; that one is a rascal ; the other is a Jacobin — so you hear Goosefoot, there, talking with Padron Malavoglia and Padron Cipolla — another heretic, that one ! A demagogue he is, with that crooked leg of his"; and when he went limping across the piazza he moved out of his way and watched him distrustfully, trying to find out what he was after, hitching about that way. " He has the cloven foot like the devil," he muttered. Uncle Crucifix shrugged his shoulders again, and repeated " that he was an honest man, that he didn't mix himself up with it." "Padron Cipolla was another old fool, a regular balloon, that fellow, to let himself be blindfolded by old Goosefoot; and Padron 'Ntoni, too — he'll get a fall before long; one may expect anything in these days." " Honest men keep to their own business," re- peated Uncle Crucifix. Instead, Uncle Tino, sitting up like a president on the church steps, went on uttering wise sen- tences : " Listen to me. Before the Revolution everything was different ; Now the fish are all adulterated ; I tell you I know it." " No, the anchovies feel the north-east wind twenty-four hours before it comes," resumed Pa- dron 'Ntoni, " it has always been so ; the anchovy is a cleverer fish than the tunny. Now, beyond the 30 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. Capo del Mulini, they sweep the sea with nets, fine ones, all at once." " I'll tell you what it is," began old Fortunate. " It is those beastly steamers beating the water with their confounded wheels. What will you have ? Of course the fish are frightened and don't come any more ; that's what it is." The son of La Locca sat listening, with his mouth open, scratching his head. "Bravo!" he said. "That way they wouldn't find any fish at Messina nor at Syracuse, and in- stead they came from there by the railway by quin- tals at a time." " For that matter, get out of it the best way you can," cried Cipolla, angrily. " I wash my hands of it. I don't care a fig about it. I have my farm and my vineyards to live upon, without your fish." Padron 'Ntoni, with his nose in the air, observed, " If the north-east wind doesn't get up before mid- night, the Provvidenza will have time to get round the Cape." From the campanile overhead came the slow strokes of the cleep bell. " One hour after sunset!" observed Padron Cipolla. Padron 'Ntoni made the holy sign, and replied, " Peace to the living and rest to the dead." " Don Giammaria has fried vermicelli for sup- per," observed Goosefoot, sniffing towards the par- sonage windows. Don Giammaria, passing by on his way home, THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 31 saluted Goosefoot as well as the others, for in such times as these one must be friends with those ras- cals, and Uncle Tino, whose mouth was always wa- tering, called after him : "Eh, fried vermicelli to-night, Don Giammaria!" " Do you hear him ? Even sniffing at what I have to eat!" muttered Don Giammaria between his teeth; " they spy after the servants of God to count even their mouthfuls — everybody hates the church!" And coming face to face with Don Michele, the brigadier of the coast-guard, who was going his rounds, with his pistols in his belt and his trousers thrust into his boots, in search of smugglers, " They don't grudge their suppers to those fellows." " Those fellows, I like them," cried Uncle Cruci- fix. " I like those fellows who look after honest men's property !" " If they'd only make it worth his while he'd be a heretic too," growled Don Giammaria, knocking at the door of his house. "All a lot of thieves," he went on muttering, with the knocker in his hand, following with suspicious eye the form of the briga- dier, who disappeared in the darkness towards the tavern, and wondering " what he was doing at the tavern, protecting honest men's goods ?" All the same, Daddy Tino knew why Don Michele went in the direction of the tavern to protect the interests of honest people, for he had spent whole nights watching for him behind the big elm to find out ; and he used to say : 32 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. " He goes to talk on the sly with Uncle Santoro, Santuzza's father. Those fellows that the King feeds must all be spies, and know all about every- body's business in Trezza and everywhere else ; and old Uncle Santoro, blind as he is, blinking like a bat in the sunshine, at the tavern door, knows every- thing that goes on in the place, and could call us by name one after another only by the footsteps." Maruzza, hearing the bell strike, went into the house quickly to spread the cloth on the table ; the gossips, little by little, had disappeared, and as the village went to sleep the sea became audible once more at the foot of the little street, and every now and then it gave a great sigh like a sleepless man turning on his bed. Only down by the tavern, where the red light shone, the noise continued ; and Rocco Spatu, who made festa every day in the week, was heard shouting. " Cousin Rocco is in good spirits to-night," said Alfio Mosca from his window, which looked quite dark and deserted. " Oh, there you are, Cousin Alfio!" replied Mena, who had remained on the landing waiting for her grandfather. "Yes, here I am, Coz Mena; I'm here eating my minestra, because when I see you all at table, with your light, I don't lose my appetite for loneliness." " Are you not in good spirits ?" "Ah, one wants so many things to put one in good spirits !" THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 33 Mena did not answer, and after a little Cousin Alfio added : "To-morrow I'm going to town for a load of salt." " Are you going for All Souls ?" asked Mena. " Heaven knows ! this year my poor little nuts are all bad." " Cousin Alfio goes to the city to look for a wife," said Nunziata, from the door opposite. " Is that true ?" asked Mena. " Eh, Cousin Mena, if I had to look for one I could find girls to my mind without leaving home." "Look at those stars," said Mena, after a silence. " They say they are the souls loosed from Purgatory going into Paradise." ^HListen," said Alfio, after having also taken a look at the stars, "you, who are Sant'Agata, if you dream of a good number in the lottery, tell it to me, and I'll pawn my shirt to put in for it, and then, you know, I can begin to think about taking a wife." " Good-night !" said Mena. The stars twinkled faster than ever, the "three kings " shone out over the Fariglione, with their arms out obliquely like Saint Andrew. The sea moved at the foot of the street, softly, softly, and at long intervals was heard the rumbling of some cart passing in the dark, grinding on the stones, and going out into the wide world — so wide, so wide, that if one could walk forever one couldn't get to the end of it ; and there were people going 3 34 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. up and down in this wide world that knew nothing of Cousin Alfio, nor of the Provvidenza out at sea, nor of the Festa of All Souls. So thought Mena, waiting on the landing for grandpapa. Grandpapa himself came out once or twice on the landing, before closing the door, looking at the stars, which twinkled more than they need have done, and then muttered, "Ugly Sea!" Rocco Spatu howled a tipsy song under the red light at the tavern. "A careless heart can always sing," concluded Padron 'Ntoni. III. AFTER midnight the wind began to howl as if all the cats in the place had been on the roof, and to shake the shutters. The sea roared round the Fa- riglione as if all the bulls of the Fair of Saint Alfio had been there, and the day opened as black as the soul of Judas. In short, an ugly September Sunday dawned — a Sunday in false September which lets loose a tempest on one between the cup and the lip, like a shot from behind a prickly-pear. The village boats were all drawn up on the beach, and well fastened to the great stones under the washing- tank; so the boys amused themselves by hissing and howling whenever there passed by some lonely sail far out at sea, tossed amid mist and foam, THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 35 dancing up and down as if chased by the devil ; the women, instead, made the sign of the cross, as if they could see with their eyes the poor fellows who were on board. Maruzza la Longa was silent, as behooved her ; but she could not stand still a minute, and went up and down and in and out without stopping, like a hen that is going to lay an egg. The men were at the tavern, or in Pizzuti's shop, or under the butch- er's shed, watching the rain, sniffing the air with their heads up. On the shore there was only Pa- dron 'Ntoni, looking out for that load of lupins and his son Bastianazzo and the Provvidenza, all out at sea there ; and there was La Locca's son too, who had nothing to lose, only his brother Menico was out at sea with Bastianazzo in the Provvidenza, with the lupins. Padron Fortunate Cipolla, getting shaved in Pizzuti's shop, said that he wouldn't give two baiocchi for Bastianazzo and La Locca's Me- nico with the Provvidenza and the load of lupins. " Now everybody wants to be a merchant and to get rich," said he, shrugging his shoulders ; " and then when the steed is stolen they shut the stable door." In Santuzza's bar-room there was a crowd — that r big drunken Rocco Spatu shouting and spitting enough for a dozen; Daddy Tino Goosefoot,idda came out with the broom to sweep away the shavings. " I do it for your sake," she said to Padron 'Ntoni's 'Ntoni; " because it is your Providence." " With the broom in your hand, you look like a queen," replied 'Ntoni. " In all Trezza there is not so good a housewife as you." " Now you have taken away the Provvidenza, we shall not see you here any more, Cousin 'Ntoni." "Yes, you will. Besides, this is the shortest way to the beach." "You come to see the Mangiacarubbe, who al- ways goes to the window when you pass." "I leave the Mangiacarubbe for Rocco Spatu. I have other things in my mind." " Who knows what you have in your mind — those pretty girls in foreign parts, perhaps ?" "There are pretty girls here, too, Cousin Bar- bara, and I know one. very well." "Really?" " By my soul !" "What do you care?" "I care! Yes, that I do; but she doesn't care for me, because there are certain dandies who walk under her window with varnished boots." THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 91 " I don't even look at those varnished boots, by the Madonna of Ognino ! Mamma says that var- nished boots are only fit to devour the dowry and everything else; and some fine day I shall go out with my distaff, and make him a scene, that Don Silvestro, who won't leave me in peace." " Do you mean that seriously, Cousin Barbara ?" "Yes, indeed I do!" . " That pleases me right well," said 'Ntoni. " Listen ; let's go down to the beach on Monday, when mamma goes to the fair." "On Mondays I never shall have a chance to breathe, now that the Provvidenza has been launched." Scarcely had Master Turi said that the boat was in order, than Padron 'Ntoni went off to start her with his boys and all the neighbors ; and the Prov- videnza, when she was going down to the sea, rock- ed about on the stones as if she were sea-sick among the crowd. " This way, here !" called out Cousin Zuppiddu, louder than anybody; but the others shouted and struggled to push her back on the ways as she rocked over on the stones. " Let me do it, or else I'll just take the boat up in my arms like a baby, and put her in the water myself." " Master Turi is capable of doing it, with those arms of his," said some one ; or else, " Now the Malavoglia will be all right again." "That devil of a Cousin Zuppiddu has lucky 92 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. fingers," they exclaimed. " Look how he has put her straight again, when she was like an old shoe." And in truth the Provvidenza did seem quite another boat — shining with new pitch, and with a bright red line along her side, and on the prow San Francesco, with his beard that seemed to have been made of tow, so much so that even La Longa had made peace with the Provvidenza, whom she had never forgiven, for coming back to her without her husband ; but she made peace for fright, now that the bailiff had been in the house. " Viva San Francesco !" called out every one as the Provvidenza passed ; and La Locca's son called out louder than anybody, in the hope that now Padron 'Ntoni would hire him by the da'y, instead of his brother Menico. Mena stood on the land- ing, and once more she cried for joy ; and, at last, even La Locca got up like the rest, and followed the Malavoglia. "O Cousin Mena, this is a fine day for all of you," said Alfio Mosca to her from his window opposite. " It will be like this when I can buy my mule." " And will you sell your donkey ?" " How can I ? I'm not rich, like Vanni Pizzuti ; if I were, I swear I wouldn't sell him, poor beast ! If I had enough to keep another person, I'd take a wife, and not live here alone like a dog." Mena didn't know what to say, and Alfio added: " Now that the Provvidenza has put to sea again, you'll be married to Brasi Cipolla." THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 93 " Grandpapa has said nothing about it." " He will. There's still time. Between now and your marriage who knows how many things may happen, or by what different roads I shall drive my cart? I have been told that in the plain, at the other side of the town, there is work for everybody on the railroad. Now that Santuzza has arranged with Master Philip for the new wine, there is noth- ing to be done here." Meanwhile the Provvidenza had slipped into the sea like a duck, with her beak in the air, and danced on the green water, enjoying its coolness, while the sun glanced on her shining side. Padron 'Ntoni enjoyed it, too, with his hands behind his back, and his legs apart, drawing his brows together, as sail- ors do when (hey want to see clearly in the sun- shine; for it was a fine winter's day, and the fields were green and the sea shining and the deep blue sky had no end. So return the sunshine and the sweet winter mornings for the eyes that have wept, to whom the sky has seemed black as pitch; and so all things renew themselves like the Provvidenza, for which a few pounds of tar and a handful of boards sufficed to make her new once more; and the eyes that see not these things are those that are done with weeping and are closed in death. " Bastianazzo is not here to see this holiday !" thought Maruzza, as she went to and fro, arranging things in the house and about the loom — where almost everything had been her husband's work 94 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. on Sundays or rainy days — and those hooks and shelves he had fixed in the wall with his own hands. Everything in the house was full of him, from his water-proof cape in the corner to his boots under the bed, that were almost new. Mena, setting up the warp, had a sad heart, too, for she was think- ing of Alfio, who was going away, and would have sold his donkey, poor beast ! for the young have short memories, and have only eyes for the rising sun; and no one looks westward save the old, who have seen the sun rise and set so many times. " Now that the Provvidenza has put to sea again," said Maruzza at last, noticing that her daughter was still pensive, "your grandfather has begun to go with Master Cipolla again ; I saw them this morn- ing, from the landing, before Peppi Naso's shed." " Padron Fortunate is rich, and has nothing to do, and stays all day in the piazza," answered Mena. "Yes, and His son Brasi has plenty of the gifts of God. Now that we have our boat, and our men no longer need to go out by the day to work for others, we shall get out of this tangle; and if the souls in Purgatory will help us to get rid of the debt for the lupins, we shall be able to think of other things. Your grandfather is wide-awake, don't you fear, and he won't let you feel that you have lost your father. He will be another father to you." Shortly after arrived Padron 'Ntoni, loaded with nets, so that he looked like a mountain, and you THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 95 couldn't see his face. " I've been to get them out of the bark," he said, "and I must look over the meshes, for to-morrow we must rig the Prowidenza" " Why did you not get 'Ntoni to help you ?" an- swered Maruzza, pulling at one end of the net, while the old man turned round in the middle of the court, like a winder, to unwind the nets, which seemed to have no end, and looked like a great serpent trailing along. " I left him there at the barber's shop ; poor boy, he has to work all the week, and it is hot even in January with all this stuff on one's shoulders." Alessio laughed to see his grandfather so red, and bent round like a fish-hook, and the grandsire said to him, " Look outside there ; there is that poor Locca; her son is in the piazza, with nothing to do, and they have nothing to eat." Maruzza sent Alessio to La Locca with some beans, and the old man, drying his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, added: " Now that we have our boat, if we live till sum- mer, with the help of God, we'll pay the debt." He had no more to say, but sat under the medlar- tree looking at his nets, as if he saw them filled with fish. " Now we must lay in the salt," he said after a while, " before they raise the tax, if it is true it is to be raised. Cousin Zuppiddu must be paid with the first money we get, and he has promised that he will then furnish the barrels on credit." 96 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. " In the chest of drawers there is Mena's linen, which is worth five scudi," added Maruzza. " Bravo ! With old Crucifix I won't make any more debts, because I have had a warning in the affair of the lupins; but he will give us thirty francs for the first time we go out with the Provvidenza" " Let him alone !" cried La Longa. " Uncle Crucifix's money brings ill luck. Just this last night I heard the black hen crowing." " Poor thing !" cried the old man, smiling as he watched the black hen crossing the court, with her tail in the air and her crest on one side, as if the whole affair were no business of hers. " She lays an egg every day, all the same." Then Mena spoke up, and coming to the door, said, " There is a basketful of eggs, and on Mon- day, if Cousin Alfio goes to Catania, you can send them to market." " Yes, they will help to pay the debt," said Pa- dron 'Ntoni; "but you can eat an egg yourselves now and then if you feel to want it." "No, we don't need them," said Maruzza, and Mena added, " If we eat them they won't be sold in the market by Cousin Alfio; and now we will put duck's eggs under the setting hen. The duck- lings can be sold for forty centimes each." Her grandfather looked her in the face, and said : " You're a real Malavoglia, my girl 1" The hens scratched in the sand of the court, in the sun, and the setting hen, looking perfectly silly, THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. with the feather over her beak, shook herself in a corner ; under the green boughs in the garden, along the wall, there was more linen bleaching, with a stone lying on it to keep it from blowing away. "All this is good to make money," said Pa- dron 'Ntoni, " and, with the help of God, we shall stay in our house. * My house is my mother.' " "Now the Malavoglia must pray to God and Saint Francis for a plentiful fishing," said Goose- foot meanwhile. " Yes, with the times we're having," exclaimed Padron Cipolla, " they must have sown the cholera for the fish in the sea, I should think." Mangiacarubbe nodded, and Uncle Cola began to talk of the tax that they wanted to put on salt, and how, if they did that, the anchovies might be quiet, and fear no longer the wheels of the steam- ers, for no one would find it worth his while to fish for them any more. "And they have invented something else," added Master Turi, the calker : " to put a duty on pitch.'"' Those to whom pitch was of no importance had nothing to say, but Zuppiddu went on shouting that he should shut up shop, and whoever wanted a boat mended might stuff the hole with his wife's dress. Then they began to scold and to swear. At this moment was heard the scream of the en- gine, and the big wagons of the railway came rush- ing out all of a sudden from the hole they had made in the hill, smoking and fuming as if the 7 98 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. devil was in them. " There 1" cried Padron Fortu- nate, " the railroad one side and the steamers the other, upon my word it's impossible to live in peace at Trezza nowadays." In the village there was the devil to pay when they wanted to put the tax upon pitch.* La Zup- pidda, foaming at the mouth, mounted upon her balcony, and went on preaching that this was some new villany of Don Silvestro, who wanted to bring the whole place to ruin, because they (the Zup- piddus) wouldn't have him for a husband for their daughter; they wouldn't have him even for a com- panion in the procession, neither she nor her girl ! When Madam Venera spoke of her daughter's hus- band it always seemed as if she herself were the bride. Master Turi Zuppiddu tramped about the land- ing, mallet in hand, brandishing his chisel as if he wanted to shed somebody's blood, and wasn't to be held even by chains. The bile ran high from door to door, like the waves of the sea in a storm. Don Franco rubbed his hands, with his great ugly hat on his head, saying that the people was raising its head; and seeing Don Michele pass with pistols hanging at his belt,' laughed in his face. The men, too, one by one, allowed themselves to be worked up by their womankind, and began hunting each * Ddzio (French, octroi), tax on substances entering a town, levied by the town-council. THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 99 other up, to try and rouse each other to fury, los- ing the whole day standing about in the piazza, with arms akimbo and open mouths, listening to the apothecary, who went on speechifying, but un- der his breath, for fear of his wife up-stairs, how they ought to make a revolution if they weren't fools, and not to mind the tax on salt or the tax on pitch, but to clear off the whole thing, for the king ought to be the people. Instead, some turn- ed their backs, muttering, " He wants to be king himself; the druggist belongs to those of the rev- olution who want to starve the poor people." And they went off to the inn to Santuzza, where there was good wine to heat one's head, and Master Cinghialenta and Rocco Spatu made noise enough for ten. The good wine made them shout, and shouting made them thirsty (for the tax had not yet been raised on the wine), and such as had much shook their fists in the air, with shirt -sleeves rolled up, raging even at the flies. Vanni Pizzuti had closed his shop door because no one came to be shaved, and went about with his razor in his pocket, calling out bad names from a distance, and spitting at those who went about their own business with oars on their backs, shrug- ging their shoulders at the noise. Uncle Crucifix (who was one of those who at- tended to their own affairs, and when they drew his blood with taxes, held his tongue for fear of 100 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. worse, and kept his bile inside of him) was never seen in the piazza now, leaning against the wall of the bell-tower, but kept inside his house, reciting Pater-nosters and Ave Marias to keep down his rage against those who were making all the row — a lot of fellows who wanted to put the place to sack, and to rob everybody who had twenty centimes in his pocket. Whoever, like Padron Cipolla, or Master Filippo, the ortolano, had anything to lose stayed shut up at home with doors bolted, and didn't put out even their noses ; so that Brasi Cipolla got a rousing cuff from his father, who found him at the door of the court, staring into the piazza like a great stupid codfish. The big fish stayed under water while the waves ran high, and did not make their appearance, not even those who were, as Venera said, fish- heads, but left the syndic with his nose in the air, counting his papers. " Don't you see that they treat you like a pup- pet ?" screamed his daughter Betta, with her hands on her hips. " Now that they have got you into a scrape, they turn their backs on you, and leave you alone wallowing in the mud ; that's what it means to let one's self be led by the nose by that meddling Don Silvestro." " I'm not led by the nose by anybody," shouted the Silk-worm. " It is I who am syndic, not Don Silvestro." Don Silvestro, on the contrary, said the real syn- THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. IQI die was his daughter Betta, and that Master Croce Calta wore the breeches by mistake. He still went about and about, with that red face of his, and Rocco Spatu and Cinghialenta, when they saw him, went into the tavern for fear of a mess, and Vanni Pizzuti swore loudly, tapping his razor in his breeches-pocket all the time. Don Silvestro, without noticing them, went to say a word or two to Uncle Santoro, and put two centimes into his hand. "The Lord be praised!" cried the blind man. "This is Don Silvestro, the secretary; none of these others that come here roaring and thumping their stomachs ever give a centime in alms for the souls in Purgatory, and they go saying they mean to kill your syndic and the secretary; Vanni Piz- zuti said it, and Rocco Spatu and Master Cinghia- lenta. Vanni Pizzuti has taken to going without shoes, not to be known; but I know his step all the same, for he drags his feet along the ground, and raises the dust like a flock of sheep passing by." " What is it to you ?" cried his daughter, when Don Silvestro was gone. "These affairs are no business of ours. The inn is like a seaport — men come and go, and one must be friendly with all and faithful to none, for that each one has his own soul for himself, and each must look out for his own in- terests, and not make rash speeches about other people. Cousin Cinghialenta and Rocco Spatu spend money in our house. I don't speak of Piz- 102 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. zuti, who sells absinthe, and tries to get away our customers." Cousin Mosca was among those who minded their own business, and passed tranquilly through the piazza, with his cart, amid the crowd, who were shaking their fists in the air. "Don't you care whether they put on the hide tax ?" asked Mena when she saw him come back with his poor donkey panting and with drooped ears. " Yes, of course I care ; but to pay the tax the cart must go, or they'll take away the ass, and the cart as well." " They say they're going to kill them all. Grand- papa told us to keep the door shut, and not to open it unless they come back. Will you go out to- morrow too ?" " I must go and take a load of lime for Master Croce Calta." " Oh, what are you going to do ? Don't you know he's the syndic, and they'll kill you too ?" "He doesn't care for them, he says. He's a mason, and he has to strengthen the wall of Don Filippo's vineyard ; and if they won't have the tax on pitch Don Silvestro must think of something else." "Didn't I tell you it was all Don Silvestro's fault?" cried Mammy Venera, who was always about blowing up the fires of discord, with her distaff in her hand. "It's all the affair of that lot, who have nothing to lose, and who don't pay a tax on THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 103 pitch because they never had so much as an old broken board at sea. It is all the fault of Don Silvestro," she went on screeching to everybody all over the place, " and of that meddling scamp Goose- foot, who have no boat, either of them, and live on their neighbors, and hold out the hat to first one and then another. Would you like to know one of his tricks ? It isn't a bit true that he has bought the debt of Uncle Crucifix^ IFsT all a lie, got up between him and old Dumb-bell to rob those poor creatures. Goosefoot never even saw five hundred francs." Don Silvestro, to hear what they said of him, went often to the tavern to buy a cigar, and then Rocco Spatu and Vanni Pizzuti would come out of it blaspheming; or he would stop on the way home from his vineyard to talk with Uncle Santoro, and heard in this way all the tale of the fictitious purchase by Goosefoot ; but he was a " Christian " with a stomach as deep as a well, and all things he left to sink into it. He knew his own business, and when Betta met him with his mouth open worse than a mad dog, and Master Croce Calta let slip his usual expression, that it didn't matter to him, he replied, " What'll you bet I don't just go off and leave you?" And went no more to the syn- dic's house ; but on the Sunday appointed for the meeting of the council Don Silvestro, after the mass, went and planted himself in the town-hall, where there had formerly been the post of the Na- 104 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. tional Guard, and began tranquilly mending his pens in front of the rough pine table to pass away the time, while La Zuppidda and the other gossips vociferated in the street, while spinning in the sun, swearing that they would tear out the eyes of the whole lot of them. Silk-worm, as they had come all the way to Master Filippo's vineyard to call him, couldn't do less than move. So he put on his new overcoat, washed his hands, and brushed the lime off his clothes, but wouldn't go to the meeting without first calling for Don Stefano to come to him. It was in vain that his daughter Betta took him by the shoulders, and pushed him out of the door, saying to him that they who had cooked the broth ought to eat it, and that he ought to let the others do as they liked, that he might remain syndic. This time Mas- ter Calta had seen the crowd before the town-hall, distaffs in hand, and he planted his feet on the ground worse than a mule. " I won't go unless Don Silvestro comes," he repeated, with eyes start- ing out of his head. " Don Silvestro will find some way out of it all." At last Don Silvestro came, with a face like a wall, humming an air, with his hands behind his back. " Eh, Master Croce, don't lose your head ; the world isn't going to come to an end this time !" Master Croce let himself be led away by Don Sil- vestro, and placed before the pine council -table, with the glass inkstand in front of him ; but there THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 105 was no council, except Peppi Naso, the butcher, all greasy and red -faced, who feared nobody in the world, and Messer Tino Piedipas*£ra (Goosefoot). " They have nothing to lose," screamed La Zup- pidda from the door, " and they come here to suck the blood of the poor, worse than so many leeches, because they live upon their neighbors, and hold the sack for this one and that one to commit all sorts of villanies. A lot of thieves and assassins." ^ " See if I don't slit your tongue for you!]' shout- ed Goosefoot, beginning to rise from behind the pine-wood table. " Now we shall come to grief !" muttered Master Croce Giufa. " I say ! I say ! what sort of manners are these ? You're not in the piazza," called out Don Silvestro. " What will you bet I don't kick out the whole of you ? Now I shall put this to rights." La Zuppidda screamed that she wouldn't have it put to rights, and struggled with Don Silvestro, who pulled her by the hair, and at last ended by thrusting her inside her own gate. When they were at last alone he began : "What is it you 'want? What is it to you if we put a tax on pitch ? It isn't you or your husband that will have to pay it, but those who come to have their boats mended. Listen to me : your husband is an ass to make all this row and to quarrel with the town-council, now when there is another coun- cillor to be chosen in the room of Padron Cipolla 106 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. or Master Mariano, who are of no use, and your husband might come in." " I know nothing about it," answered La Zuppid- da, becoming quite calm in an instant. " I never mix myself up in my husband's affairs. I know he's biting his hands with rage. I can do nothing but go and tell him, if the thing is certain." " Certain ? of course it is — certain as the heavens above, I tell you ! Are we honest men or not ? By the holy big devil !" La Zuppidda went straight off to her husband, who was crouching in the corner of the court card- ing tow, pale as a corpse, swearing that they'd end by driving him to do something mad. To open the sanhedrim and try if the fish would bite, there were still wanting Padron Fortunate Cipolla and Master Filippo, the market-gardener, who stayed away so long that the crowd began to get bored — so much so that the gossips began to spin, sitting on the low wall of the town-hall yard. At last they sent word that they couldn't come ; they had too much to do; the tax might be levied just as well without them. " Word for word what my daughter Betta said," growled Master Croce Giufa. "Then get your daughter Betta to help you," exclaimed Don Silvestro. Silk-worm said not an- other word audibly, but continued to mutter be- tween his teeth. " Now," said Don Silvestro, " you'll see that the THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 107 Zuppiddi will come and ask me to take their daughter Barbara, but they'll have to go on ask- ing." The meeting was closed without deciding upon anything. The clerk wanted time to get up his subject. In the mean while the clock struck twelve, and the gossips quickly disappeared. The few that stayed long enough to see Master Cirino shut the door and put the key in his pocket went away to their own work, some this way, some that, talking as they went of the dreadful things that Goosefoot and La Zuppidda had been saying. In the even- ing Padron 'Ntoni's 'Ntoni heard of this bad lan- guage, and, " Sacrament !" if he wouldn't show Goosefoot that he had been for a soldier ! He met him, just as he was coming from the beach, near the house of the Zuppiddi, with that devil's club-foot of his, and began to speak his mind to him — that he was a foul-mouthed old carrion, and that he had better take care what he said of the Zuppiddi ; that their doings was no affair of his. Goosefoot didn't keep his tongue to himself either. " Holloa ! do you think you've come from foreign parts to play the master here?" " I've come to slit your weasand for you if you don't hold your tongue !" Hearing the noise, a crowd of people came to the doors, and a great crowd gathered ; so that at last they took hold of each other, and Goosefoot, who was sharp as the devil he resembled, flung him- 108 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. self on the ground all in a heap with 'Ntoni Mala- voglia, who thus lost all the advantage which his good legs might have given him, and they rolled over and over in the mud, beating and biting each other as if they had been Peppi Naso's dogs, so that 'Ntoni had to be pulled into the Zuppiddi's court with his shirt torn off his back, and Goose- foot was led home bleeding like Lazarus. "You'll see!" screamed out again Gossip /Vene- T&T after she had slammed the door in the faces" of ner neighbors — "you'll see whether I mean to be mistress in my own house. I'll give my girl to whomsoever I please !" The girl ran off into the house, red as a turkey, with her heart beating as fast as a spring chicken's. "He's almost pulled off your ear!" said Master Bastiano, as he poured water slowly over 'Ntoni's head ; " bites worse than a dog, does Uncle Tino." 'Ntoni's eyes were still full of blood, and he was set upon vengeance. " Listen, Madam 'Vj^e_ra !" he said, in the hearing of all the world. " If your daughter doesn't take me, I'll never marry anybody." And the girl heard him in her chamber. " This is no time to speak of such things, Cousin 'Ntoni ; but if your grandfather has no objection, I wouldn't change you, for my part, for Victor Em- manuel himself." Master Zuppiddu, meanwhile, said not a word, but handed 'Ntoni a towel to dry himself with ; so THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 1 09 that 'Ntoni went home that night in a high state of contentment. But the poor Malavoglia, when they heard of the fight with Goosefoot, trembled to think how they might at any moment expect the officer to turn them out-of-doors ; for Goosefoot lived close by, and of the money for the debt they had only, after end- less trouble, succeeded in putting together about half. " Look what it means to be always hanging about / where there's a marriageable girl !" said La Longa to 'Ntoni. " I'm sorry for Barbara !" "And I mean to marry her," said 'Ntoni. "j;ojaa«y-4rer !" cried the grandfather. "And who am I ? And does your mother count for noth- ing ? When your father married her that sits there, he made them come and tell me first. Your grand- mother was then alive, and they came and spoke to us in the garden under the fig-tree. Now these things are no longer the custom, and the old people are of no use. At one time it was said, ' Listen to the old, and you'll make no blunders.' First your sister_ Mejia must be married — do you know that ?" " Cursed is my fate !" cried 'Ntoni, stamping and tearing his hair. " Working all day ! Never going to the tavern! Never a soldo in one's pocket! Now that I've found a girl to suit me, I can't have her ! Why did I come back from the army >" " Listen !" cried old 'Ntoni, rising slowly and painfully in consequence of the racking pain in his 110 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. back. "Go to bed and to sleep — that's the best thing for you to do. You should never speak in that way in your mother's presence." " My brother Luca, that's gone for a soldier, is better off than I am," growled 'Ntoni as he went off to bed. VIII. LUCA, poor fellow, was neither better off nor worse. He did his duty abroad, as he had done it at home, and was content. He did not often write, certainly — the stamps cost twenty centimes each — nor had he sent his portrait, because from his boy- hood he had been teased about his great ass's ears ; instead, he every now and then sent a five-franc note, which he made out to earn by doing odd jobs for the officers. The grandfather had said, " Mena must be married first." It was not yet spoken of, but thought of always, and now that the money was accumulating in the drawer, he considered that the anchovies would cover the debt to Goosefoot, and the house remain free for the dowry of the girl. Wherefore he was seen sometimes talking quietly with Padron Fortunato on the beach while waiting for the bark, or sitting in the sun on the church steps when no one else was there. Padron Fortunato had no wish to go back from his word if the girl had her dowry, the more that his son always was causing him anxiety by running THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. Ill after a lot of penniless girls, like a stupid as he was. " The man has his word, and the bull has his horns," he took to repeating again. Mena had often a heavy heart as she sat at the loom, for girls have quick senses. And now that her grandfather was always with Padron Fortunato, and she so often heard the name Cipolla mentioned in the house, it seemed as if she had the same sight forever before her, as if that blessed Christian Cousin Alfio were nailed to the beams of the loom like the pictures of the saints. One evening she waited until it was quite late to see Cousin Alfio come back with his donkey-cart, holding her hands under her apron, for it was cold and all the doors were shut, and not a soul was to be seen in the little street; so she said good-evening to him from the door. " Will you go down to Biccocca at the first of the month?" she asked him, finally. " Not yet ; there are still a hundred loads of wine for Santuzza. Afterwards, God will provide." She knew not what to say while Cousin Alfio came and went in the little court, unharnessing the donkey and hanging the harness on the knobs, car- rying the lantern to and fro. " If you go to Biccocca we shall not see each other any more," said Mena, whose voice was quite faint. " But why ? Are you going away too ?" The poor child could not speak at all at first, though it was dark and no one could see her face. 112 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. From time to time the neighbors could be heard speaking behind the closed doors, or children cry- ing, or the noise of the platters in some house where supper was late ; so that no one could hear them talking. " Now we have half the money we want for old Goosefoot, and at the salting of the anchovies we can pay the other half." Alfio, at this, left the donkey in the court and came out into the street. " Then you will be mar- ried after Easter ?" Mena did not reply. " I told you so," continued Alfio. " I saw Padron 'Ntoni talking with Padron Cipolla." " It will be as God wills," said Mena. " I don't care to be married if I might only stay on here." " What a fine thing it is for Cipolla," went on Mosca, " to be rich enough to marry whenever he pleases, and take the wife he prefers, and live where he likes !" "Good-night, Cousin Alfio," said Mena, after stop- ping a while to gaze at the lantern hanging on the wicket, and the donkey cropping the nettles on the wall. Cousin Alfio also said good-night, and went back to put the donkey in his stall. Among those who were looking after Barbara was Vanni Pizzuti, when he used to go to the house to shave Master Bastiano, who had the sciatica; and also Don Michele, who found it a bore to do noth- ing but march around with the pistols in his belt THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 113 when he wasn't behind Santuzza's counter, and went ogling the pretty girls to pass away the time. Barbara at first returned his glances, but afterwards, when her mother told her that those fellows were only loafing around to no purpose — a lot of spies — all foreigners were only fit to be flogged — she slammed the window in his face — mustache, gold- bordered cap and all ; and Don Michele was furious, and for spite took to walking up and down the street, twisting his mustache, with his cap over his ear. On Sunday, however, he put on his plumed hat, and went into Vanni Pizzuti's shop to make eyes at her as she went by to mass with her mother. Don Silvestro also took to going to be shaved among those who waited for the mass, and to warming himself at the brazier for the hot water, exchanging saucy speeches with the rest. "That Barbara begins to hang on 'Ntoni Malavoglia's hands," he said. "What will you bet he doesn't marry her after all ? There he stands, waiting, with his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to come to him." At last, one day, Don Michele said : " If it were not for the cap with the border, I'd make that ugly scamp 'Ntoni Malavoglia hold the candle for me — that I would." Don Silvestro lost no time in telling 'Ntoni every- thing, and how Don Michele, the brigadier, who was not the man to let the flies perch on his nose, had a grudge against him. 8 114 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. Goosefoot, when he went to be shaved and heard that Don Michele would have given him something to get rid of 'Ntoni Malavoglia, ruffled himself up like a turkey-cock because he was so much thought of in the place. Vanni Pizzuti went on, saying : " Don Michele would give anything to have the Malavoglia in his hands as you have. Oh, why did you let that row with 'Ntoni pass off so easily?" Goosefoot shrugged his shoulders, and went on warming his hands over the brazier. Don Silves- tro began to laugh, and answered for him : "Master Vanni would like to pull the chestnuts out of the fire with Goosefoot's paws. We know already that Gossip Venera will have nothing to say to foreigners or to gold-bordered caps, so if 'Ntoni Malavoglia were out of the way he would be the only one left for the girl." Vanni Pizzuti said nothing, but he lay awake the whole night thinking of it. " It wouldn't be such a bad thing," he thought to himself ; " every- thing depends upon getting hold of Goosefoot some day when he is in the right sort of humor." It came that day, once when Rocco Spatu was nowhere to be seen. Goosefoot had come in two or three times, rather late, to look for him, with a pale face and starting eyes, too ; and the customs guard had been seen rushing here and there, full of business, smelling about like hunting-dogs with noses to the ground, and Don Michele along with THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 115 them, with pistols in belt and trousers thrust into his boots. " You might do a good service to Don Michele if you would take 'Ntoni Malavoglia out of his way," said Vanni to Papa Tino, as he stood in the darkest corner of the shop buying a cigar. " You'd do him a famous service, and make a friend of him for life." "I dare say," sighed Goosefoot. He had no breath that evening, and said nothing more. In the night were heard shots over towards the cliffs called the Rotolo and along all the beach, as if some one were hunting quail. " Quail, indeed !" murmured the fisher-folk as they started up in bed to listen. " Two-legged quail, those are ; quail that bring sugar and coffee and silk handkerchiefs that pay no duty. That's why Don Michele had his boots in his trousers and his pistols in his belt." Goosefoot went as usual to the barber's shop for his morning glass before the lantern over the door had been put out, but that next morning he had the face of a dog that has upset the kettle. He made none of his usual jokes, and asked this one and that one why there had been such a devil of a row in the night, and what had become of Roc- co Spatu and Cinghialenta, and doffed his cap to Don Michele, and insisted on paying for his morn- ing draught. Goosefoot said to him : " Take a glass of spirits, Don Michele; it will do your stomach good after your wakeful night. Blood of Judas !" Il6 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. exclaimed Goosefoot, striking his fist on the coun- ter and feigning to fly into a real rage, " it isn't to Rome that I'll send that young ruffian 'Ntoni to do penance." "Bravo!" assented Vanni. "I wouldn't have passed it over, I assure you ; nor you, Don Michele, I'll swear." Don Michele approved with a growl. " I'll take care that 'Ntoni and all his relations are put in their places," Goosefoot went on threat- ening. "I'm not going to have the whole place laughing at me. You may rest assured of that much, Don Michele." And off he went, limping and blaspheming, as if he were in a fearful rage, while all the time he was saying to himself, " One must keep friends with all these spies," and rumi- nating on how he was to make a friend of Santuz- za as well, going to the inn, where he heard from Uncle Santoro that neither Rocco Spatu nor Cin- ghialenta had been there; then went on to Cousin Anna's, who, poor thing, hadn't slept a wink, and stood at her door looking out, pale as a ghost. There he met the Wasp, who had come to see if Cousin Anna had by chance a little leaven. "To-day I must speak with your uncle Dumb- bell about the affair you know of," said Goosefoot. Dumb-bell was willing enough to speak of that af- fair which never came to an end, and "When things grow too long they turn into snakes." Padron 'Ntoni was always preaching that the Malavoglia THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 1 17 were honest people, and that he would pay him, but he (Dumb-bell) would like to know where the money was to come from. In the place, everybody knew to a centime what everybody owned, and those honest people, the Malavoglia, even if they sold their souls to the Turks, couldn't manage to pay even so much as the half by Easter; and to get possession of the house one must have stamped paper and all sorts of expenses ; that he knew very well. And all this time Padron 'Ntoni was talking of marrying his granddaughter. He'd seen him with Padron Cipolla, and Uncle Santoro had seen him, and Goosefoot had seen him too ; and he, too, went on doing the go-between for Vespa and that lazy hound Alfio Mosca, that wanted to get hold of her field. " But I tell you that I do nothing of the sort !" shouted Goosefoot in his ear. " Your niece is over head and ears in love with him, and is always at his heels. I can't shut the door in her face, out of respect for you, when she comes to have a chat with my wife ; for, after all, she is your niece and your own blood." "Respect! Pretty sort of respect! "You'll chouse me out of the field with your respect." " Among them they'll chouse you out of it. If the Malavoglia girl marries Brasi Cipolla, Mosca will be left out in the cold, and will take to Vespa and her field for consolation." Il8 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR^TREK. " The devil may have her for what I care," called out old Crucifix, deafened by Uncle Tino's clatter. " I don't care what becomes of her, a godless cat that she is. I want my property. I made it of my blood ; and one would think I had stolen it, that every one takes it from me — Alfio Mosca, Vespa, the Malavoglia. I'll go to law and take the house." " You are the master. You can go to law if you like." "No, I'll wait until Easter — 'the man has his word, and the bull has his horns ;' but I mean to be paid up to the last centime, and I won't listen to anybody for the least delay." In fact, Easter was drawing near. The hills be- gan once more to clothe themselves with green, and the Indian figs were in flower. The girls had sowed basil outside the windows, and the white butterflies came to flutter about it; even the pale plants on the sea-shore were starred with white flowers. In the morning the red and yellow tiles smoked in the rising sun, and the sparrows twit- tered there until the sun had set. And the house by the medlar-tree, too, had a sort of festive air: the court was swept, the nets and cords were hung neatly against the wall, or spread on drying-poles; the garden was full of cabbages and lettuce, and the rooms were open and full of sunshine, that looked as if it too were content. All things proclaimed that Easter was at hand. The elders sat on the steps in the evening, and the girls THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. 119 sang at the washing-tank. The wagons began again to pass the high-road by night, and at dusk there began once more the sound of voices in conversa- tion in the little street. " Cousin Mena is going to be married," they said ; " her mother is busy with her outfit already." Time had passed — and all things pass away with time, sad things as well as sweet. Now Cousin Maruzza was always busy cutting and sewing all sorts of household furnishing, and Mena never asked for whom they were intended; and one even- ing Brasi Cipolla was brought into the house, with Master Fortunate, his father, and all his relations. " Here is Cousin Cipolla, who is come to make you a visit," said Padron 'Ntoni, introducing him into the house, as if no one knew anything about it beforehand, while all the time wine and roasted pease were made ready in the kitchen, and the women and the girls had on their best clothes. That evening Mena looked exactly like Sant' Agata, with her new dress and her black kerchief on her head, so that Brasi never took his eyes off her, but sat staring at her all the evening like a basilisk, sitting on the edge of his chair, with his hands between his knees, rubbing them now and then on the sly for very pleasure. " He is come with his son Brasi, who is quite a big fellow now," continued Radron 'Ntoni. "Yes, the children grow and shoulder us into the ground," answered Padron Fortunate. 120 THE HOUSE BY THE MEDLAR-TREE. " Now you'll take a glass of our wine — of the best we have, and a few dried pease which my daughter has toasted. If we had only known you were coming we might have had something ready better worth your acceptance." " We happened to be passing by," said Padron Cipolla, "and we said, 'Let's go and make a visit to Cousin Maruzza/ " Brasi filled his pockets with dried pease, always looking at the girl, and then the boys cleared the dish in spite of all Nunziata, with the baby in her arms, could do to hinder them, talking all the while among themselves softly as if they had been in church. The elders by this time were in conversa- tion together under the medlar, all the gossips clus- tering around full of praises of the girl — how she was such a good manager, and kept the house neat as a new pin. "The girl as she is trained, and the flax as it is spun," they quoted. " Your granddaughter is also grown up," said Pa- dron Fortunate; "it is time she was married." "If the Lord sends her a good husband I ask nothing better," replied Padron 'Ntoni.